raison d'être
by narcissists
Summary: "Good men die for their loved ones. Great men die for their ideals." A dictator is reborn as Eren Jaeger and wants nothing more than to live quietly and atone for his sins.
1. Chapter 1

**Raison d'être:**

(snk fanfiction)

 **Summary:** "Good men die for their loved ones. Great men die for their ideals." A dictator is reborn as Eren Jaeger and wants nothing more than to live quietly and atone for his sins.

Prologue:

' _I bear a charmed life which must not yield / To one of woman born' (Macbeth: Act 5, Scene 8)_

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' _Please…please…don't do this—I beg—please…' The woman, who had been quite beautiful—save her eyes that shone and whispered of the sweetest innocence that this wretched world could buy. A woman—whom I call my wife—that was currently begging at my feet._

' _That's enough Johanna.' Came out the curt, gruff reply._

 _Somewhere in the deep, dark part of my psyche, I recognized the voice as my own—but as dream-like trances go, I was unable to comprehend the proper significance of this fact._

' _-He's your son!' The woman cried out, tears streaming down her cheeks…and then there were her eyes. The hopeless despair reflected in those bright green eyes made something about her change. I couldn't pin-point 'what' exactly however._

' _-hah,' she scoffed, voice laced with cold venom and devouring hatred._

' _In the end…in the end, you'd even kill off your own flesh and blood, wouldn't you?'_

 _Ah. Now I see—I have ruined you too Johanna, haven't I? But nevertheless, you will live; because brave and ever-righteous Arnold would take care of you, wouldn't he? He's the darling hero of the Rebellion and a good man who loves you. Only you'd be kept safe from dying a morbid death…my beloved Johanna…for you have never done anything wrong except to have married a man who had made far too many enemies of this world._

' _That's right,' I reply with masked, nonchalant ease. And with equal grace, I move past beyond her—but the haunting wails reach my ears like plagues anyways._

 _The toothless babe in my hold smiles up at me—the ignorant thing. Unaware of his fate; an imminent death that looms over like a cursed omen._

 _And all because of that wretched, wretched blood in those small veins of his. Even if he were to live, it'd be in constant hiding and fear. Fear of being caught, and tortured. Made to suffer in the place of his evil, fool of a father. And for what? To quell the bloodthirst and vengeance of the general populace of course._

 _For the first time since the child's birth, I brought the babe close and placed a careful peck to his temple. As though he were the purest of angels and I, the fiendish Devil himself._

 _And I prayed—with all my atheist being, to whatever divine entity that may or may not be…that he'll be watched over from heaven—for I would not be able to._

 _From my breast-pocket, (where I would've usually kept my pistol ironically) I then proceeded to take out two needle syringes filled with sickly black liquid._

 _First, I inserted myself and then, the child. It would've taken the poison less to travel through his bloodstream anyways._

 _He began to wail. And Johanna's wracked sobs also came back to life with a fervour._

 _At this point, my eye-sight begins to blur and wobble—but I manage not to drop the boy still—perhaps a last minute awakened parental instinct?_

 _Although…it was too late now at this point._

 _The crying stops at some point and I'm on my knees._

 _One last time, I look up with my doubled vision to a blurring outline of a figure. Johanna…you must…live…well._

 _SOUTHERN EDGE, WALL MARIA, YEAR 835; (SHIGANSHINA DISTRICT)_

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"oh, who's my little hunter? You are! My precious, precious, baby boy!" Carla Jaeger cooed embracing a small brown bundle to her chest.

"Grisha, come look at Eren! He's just so…so…adorable!" She squealed, trying to describe the feeling of her mother-bear instincts going into overdrive whenever her little cub is involved.

"yes, yes, Carla. You've said that about…I don't know—a hundred times now." Her husband called, his head poking out of the kitchen.

"Although, I'm pretty sure Eren looks just the same as the last time I saw him dear."

"Well." Mrs. Jaeger pursed her lips and lifted her nose upward snootily in mock indignance.

"Maybe it's time you get some new glasses then seeing as your eyes aren't working quite proper anymore."

"Carla, you wound me-"

A sharp, intake of breath could be heard and then-

"Oh Grisha! Grisha! Eren's just opened his eyes! He's blinking! Blinking I say! Here, come take a look—quick quick!"

As per his wife's excited exclamations, Grisha Jaeger was quick to abandon the dishes in the sink and rushed out of the kitchen with soap suds still on his hands.

When he caught sight of the tiny baby, he was overtaken with stunned awe.

He was only able to get his wits together enough to speak momentarily after.

"Now would you look at that. I don't think his eyes take after either of us I'm afraid."

"Goodness, I know—but they're so pretty dear, aren't they?"

"I dare say I've seen no colour quite like it."

"They're so…green though, aren't they?" Carla asked, looking upward at her husband.

"The greenest," He tells his wife assuredly as he kisses the top of her head.

The baby with the green eyes continued to stare fixedly upon his parents; slowly blinking.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter One:

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It was a general understanding to all those living in the town of Shiganshina district that Grisha Jaeger's son; Eren Jaeger, was a strange one.

Seldom to ever venture outside—unless deemed necessary—had made him a pale and sickly looking boy. Coarse, brown hair with the tendency to tangle fell to the length just above his shoulder and served as a great helmet to block his striking eyes from the view of others.

And yet…despite the utterly frail and effeminate appearance, the boy proved time and time again that he would not take to being provoked—a fact that was attested to by the poor kids who tried to bully him but came back home with bruises instead.

Although none would dare say a single ill word towards the actual child; not when considering just what kind of man his father was. Grisha Jaeger—the infamous miracle doctor known and loved by all for his selfless nature in treating almost everyone and anyone in need.

Today however, the young lad was seen trailing after his father through the marketplace with his nose buried into a heavy medical encyclopedia making heads turn at the unexpected and much unusual sight.

"Morn'ing Dr. Jaeger! Where' ya up ta' today?" The vegetable vendor that they often went to greeted with an outstretched smile.

"A faraway client I'm afraid Arnold-"

The boy's figure visibly tensed beside his father at hearing such a…familiar name in a place so unexpected.

Memories of an old friend-turned enemy surfaced to his mind and he allowed himself to savour in those thoughts which were like black and bitter coffee.

"-The Ackermanns again?"

"Yes…but I'm worried since this has actually been the third reoccurrence of Mrs. Ackermann's illness…"

For the first time since stepping out of his home, Eren Jaeger tilted his head up to look at his father speculatively.

He was a good actor for what it was worth; the boy decided. But both knew very well that what Mrs. Ackermann was suffering from was not in fact a malady but something much more sinister…

But the ignorant street vendor had no idea of this and suggested; in a manner that he probably thought to be helpful—

"May'be it's b'cause she's of a diff'rent blood." He said, brows furrowed.

"Perhaps." Dr. Jaeger agreed, but the irony of his words was only fully understood by the father-son duo.

* * *

When they were finally walking on one of the more quiet, secluded paths, Eren Jaeger suddenly shut close his heavy encyclopedia with an equally heavy sigh.

Grisha smiled indulgently at his son.

"What, tired of the long walk already or are you just annoyed at having already finished your book?"

Eren merely hummed uncommittedly as a response to his father's inquiry and for the life of Grisha, he couldn't figure out where his son had inherited such a habit from.

"A bit of both," his son replied, when he finally deemed it appropriate to answer the question that had been asked of him.

"I actually finished reading the encyclopedia a few whiles back—now, I'm just trying to memorize it." He matter-of-factly admitted.

The doctor found himself feeling exasperated and wondered if all children behaved like this.

 _'_ _Zeke certainly hadn't.'_

Any thoughts of his old life would put a morose damper to his mood so he tried to control the tendency but some days (like today), he couldn't help but subconsciously draw parallels and contrasts between Eren and Zeke.

Instead, he pushed away from his painful reminiscence schooling his face into a carefree grin.

"Heh. No wonder Hannes calls you a cheeky brat."

Compared to all the horrible names and epithets he's been referred to as before, Hanne's little nickname was practically docile.

Eren looked at the clear blue sky that was free and untouched by any grey smoke of pollution or the presence of jets carrying deadly bombs and felt the creeping unease settle within his heart—as it usually did on days like this.

It was calm, peaceful…and good. Too good for someone like himself. Someone who was the living incarnate of evil.

He doesn't deserve to be in peace he decided. Not when he was so far stepped in blood as he was.

It was odd. People always said that there was 'no place like home'—and yet, he didn't miss 'home' very much at all.

* * *

Eren remembered another reason as for why he detested days like these; because they were like warnings, of a calm before the storm.

Or so he thought as he crouched down against the wall of a brightly lit cabin where he heard the two human traffickers discuss their plans to sell the girl into slavery. (probably related of the sexual kind)

After finding the Ackermann couple murdered within their home and the daughter to be missing, his father had run off to get the help of the military police leaving him with the order to 'stay put' at the scene of crime.

Which he did—

For a couple seconds anyways.

Then, upon discovering blood trailed footsteps, he followed without thinking too much of it. Even now, he still couldn't bring himself to care for the danger he was currently in and instead focused in trying to figure out what his next move would be.

Obviously, there was no way that he would be able to take out wo armed adults by himself—

Suddenly, his eyes caught sight of a particular plant—one that he knew for fact was used to make sleeping drugs and had strong, narcotic effects.

He fumbled around his pockets and found a rectangular box with a few matches still left within it.

He quietly made the mental calculations within his head as a plan was already beginning to form in his mind.

This could work, he thought.

But even so, he was made perceptively aware of the lead-like weight of the sheathed dagger hidden in his boots.

Dragging his tongue over his pointed, canine teeth, he debated: To kill or not to kill?

* * *

"Although…she's quite a pretty little thing…what about just _once_ before we hand her over?" The mercenary leered perversely.

His partner scowled and scoffed.

"yeah right—in your dreams you will! Did you forget that virgins fetch higher you dumbass?"

"ugh" the first man cried, remorseful.

"why'd ya have to kill the mom by being so reckless? I could'have…heh-"

"wait." The second thug raised up his hand to signal for silence.

"Do you smell that?"

"Oh? Smell what?"

"That smell! As if…something's burning…you buffoon! Did you not put the fire our after you were finished cooking?!"

"Ehh~ what's the big dead anyways? You can just…go…'nd…uh…oh-…put…it…out…"

A thump was heard as the first kidnapper, who was already a bit inebriated to start with –fell over unconscious.

Eren peeked through the window slightly and saw that while the second guy was still standing, his steps seemed wobbly and unbalanced.

With the hardest part of the plan over, he stood up from his crouched position, stomped out the small smoking fire of leaves at his feet—and all the while held his scarf over his nose as to not inhale the fumes.

With his other hand, he held a dagger within his grip and when the door opened with the kidnapper's much larger torso about to crush his much smaller figure; he slit the man's throat causing a spray of warm blood to hit his face—and dodged out of the trajectory of the fallen body.

His next kill was much easier as he simply had to drag the knife across his neck and watch as the man's chest stopped rising up and down.

Most surprising however, was when he was distressing over how to carry the girl back to where his father would be when he found two sets of lifeless black eyes staring straight back at him.

This made him confused.

 _'_ _how was she able to not fall unconscious? They taped her mouth to keep her from screaming so she must've absolutely breathed in the fumes from the smoke…'_

But nevertheless, he supposes he should feel grateful as his job had just become much easier.

He knelt down and cut away the ropes that bound her hands and feet as well as remove the crude piece of tape over the girl's mouth.

For a long while, the girl made no action to move from her spot but then, with much struggle, she managed to sit up but proceeded to stare blankly into nothingness.

He didn't know for how many minutes this continued on for.

At some point, he debated to whether or not just leave the girl here but then discarded that option remembering his father, but also all the work that he himself put into for the sake of this rescue.

Eren sighed.

The smoke had long since dissipated into the air that he stopped holding the scarf over his nose like a mask. Now, cold gusts of wind were blowing into the cabin from the already broken windows causing him to shiver and the stench of blood was beginning to make him irate as well.

He looked down at the girl whose flimsy clothes offered absolutely no protection from the natural forces and sighed.

Kneeling once more, he took off his own scarf (which was actually his mother's that he borrowed) and wrapped the long, thick wool over the small slip of a girl. Their eyes met in the process. He stood up again.

"c'mon. let's go home." He held out a hand for her; intending the girl to take it so that he could pull her up and they could finally make their way out of this cold, dark, forest.

She made a hesitant reach for it but Eren, having lost a good amount of his patience, grabbed her hand and pulled her up.

"we're going." Was all he said as he proceeded to lead himself and the girl out of the forest, back to the home of the dead Ackermanns.

* * *

When Grisha asked him with suspicion laced in his voice what had happened to the two human traffickers that took the girl (Mikasa) in the first place, he lies easily and tells him that Mikasa had already somehow escaped by the time that he found her in the forest.

The girl does not refute this lie but merely clutches onto the scarf tighter and his father does not doubt his words because his nine-year-old son certainly would not have the ability to take down two fully grown men.

* * *

At the end of it all, he gets a new little sister—and really, he thinks; this is not what he meant by when he told her 'let's go home'—but he can live with it.

There was still one more thing he was curious about though.

"Why were you not affected by the smoke?" he asked.

"Your father…Dr. Jaeger often prescribed is to burn that herb to lure mom into sleep if it ever looked like she was in too much pain because of her illness."

Ah. Immunity then.

He didn't pry any further after than and they sat in comfortable silence inside the carriage with the galloping hooves of the horses serving as a melodic lullaby.


End file.
